


But bay-b it’s cold outside

by Bobsled_Hostage



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Cold Weather, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Piratestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8975191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobsled_Hostage/pseuds/Bobsled_Hostage
Summary: Tropical fish don't deal well with winter





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SybLaTortue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybLaTortue/gifts).
  * Inspired by [This Drawing](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/250126) by Syblatortue. 



The ruins were right where the whisperings said they would be!  You swam down to the bottom of the trench and there it was: a black obelisk, poking out of the red pelagic clay.  The aura seeping off it was so ancient and evil you’d glubbed with delight, even as you heard it in the back of your thinkpan.  Calling to you in the old language, telling you to stay and to sink further and further down.  It took you a few tries to re-draw them when you got back to the surface, but A-ray-dia was able to translate the glyphs, and Shoallux was able to interpret the coordinates.  He may not be able to sea, but he’s got a reely good mem-oar-y!  And now you’ve got a heading!  Sailing South in search of the lost island of Tsalal.  In search of treasure!  It’s so -------EXCITING!  
  


You’re sleeping in the crew quarters now, instead of beneath the waves.  Salt in your gills and the gentle sighs of drowned sailors rolling in the benthic ooze below are nice.  A warm hammock and Tavros pressed up against you - or Aradia, or Sollux, or all of the above - is betta.  Today you get up bright and early, as usual.  You step outside for a look at the waves before you mako the captain breakfast, and-

Everything’s W)(IT----E!!!

The sky, the deck, even the air itself is thick with bright, white flakes of- of  _ something _ , whipping over the ship in great gusts of wind.  You step out the door and almost fall down.  It’s  _ slippery _ !  You glub excitedly and slide out onto the deck.  It’s not that different from hopping tidepool to tidepool when you were a wriggler, balancing on the wrack-slick stones and peering at the things that scuttled away from your feet.  There’s water everywhere, all over everything, but it’s  _ stuck  _ somehow.  You touch one of the glistening crystals hanging from a dangling rope and it snaps, shatters on the deck.  The wind nearly pushes you over and you laugh out loud.  
  


Aboat ten minutes later, you’ve decided you don’t like it out here.  The air sears your gills.  Every time you try and clamp your opercula shut, the stuck-water clinging inside them stings bad enough that you think better of it.  You can’t feel your hands.  Or your feet.  Or your fins, or nipples, or grubscars, or anything else outside the slow thud of your bloodpusher.  Your teeth chatter.  When you clamp those shut, your whole  _ body  _ shakes.  The cold metal of your jewelry sticks to your skin.  It hurts when you try to move and it hurts when you stay still, and it  _ reely  _ hurts when you try to pull it off.  Your hair weighs you down in a wet, frigid, solid mass.  It’s  _ awful _ .  You )(AT---E it!

You want to dive into the ocean and let the water close over you.  Sink until you’re not so cold.  Fill your ears full and warm with the songs of the forgotten things that slither and spawn in the inky depths where the light doesn’t reach, a thousand atmospheres of water bearing down around you like a gigantic briny blanket, crushing the-

fEFERI!

Tavros is ensconced in a thick layer of land-mammal hides, covering everything but his face - yes, even his gargantuan horns.

yOU NEED TO GET INSIDE.   He takes a step toward you, steadies himself as his peg leg almost skids out from under him.   aS IN, RIGHT NOW.

You glub something wretchedly at him in broodfester.  He squints, worried, and reaches out to take your hand.  You’re surprised when your fingers don’t fall off in his grasp.  
  


Going inside is equal parts relief and agony.  The rush of warmth practically melts you.  Tavros rubs your body all over, mumbling about frostbite and hypothermia and a dozen other things you’ve never heard of.  Your blood hurts all over, like crystals of ice tearing you up inside as the f-eel-ing slowwwwwly comes back in your extremities.  You whimper and curl your fingers and toes, your whole body in absolute agony.  Sollux investigates by pressing his face into your back, jumping a little when he realizes how icy cold you are, even for you.  Both of them whisper that you’re going to be fine, and with a mustardblood on one side and a rust on the other you’re eventually warm enough to start thinking in Alternian again.  You glub unhappily anyway and Sollux kisses the back of your earfin, Tavros massages life back into your face.

Your jewels tear your skin when they come loose, but your skin is tough and you’ve got plenty of layers underneath.  It’ll be fin.  Tavros goes outside (how can he  _ do  _ that?) to  mAKE SURE THAT THE SHIP DOESN’T, UH, HIT ANY SEA ICE  (there’s ice in the  _ sea  _ now?  That’s even  _ WORS---E _ ).  At some point Aradia woke up.  She’s stirring a pot of something over the stove that’s - along with the two warmbloods - keeping the room toasty.   _ You  _ were supposed to be the one cooking for  _ her _ !  When you can use your hands again, she passes you a bowl.  It’s land-dweller food, but it’s hot, and it’s got lots of lime and salt and garlic, so you drink it all anemoneway.

You ask how anyone could possibly do anything in that weather, let alone tie a knot or weigh anchor or let out the sails or navigate or dig up treasure.  Sollux giggles and Aradia paps your face.  Ladling soup for the cabin boy and herself, and a second bowl for you, she promises that you’ll be headed home, rolling in gold, before you know it.

and by the way you aren’t supposed to go out in the snow naked! \- she looks pointedly at your exposed rumblespheres, still very pink from the cold -  though none of us are complaining 0u0

Sollux’s hand is on your hip, and you  _ should  _ get out of your sarong, they just explained that wet clothes make everything worse.  You pull his fingers downward, removing the soaked cloth and leaving you totally nude.  Both psychics descend on you and in no time you’re sandwiched between them, laughing and kissing and touching and pailing.

 

Later, you venture back out on deck, wrapped up in several layers of warm clothing.  You hate having so much cloth suffocating your skin, but if Tavros can hake it, so can you.  He’s been out here the whole time, and there’s work to do.  Plus, you have some  _ amazing  _ ideas on how the two of you can stay warm.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think piratestuck!Feferi is actually this naive, but that's the only way I could make the scenario happen.


End file.
